Blackest Knight
by Duker-2014
Summary: A manhunt has been issued for the Batman, and with Carmine Falcone behind bars, the power shifts to a new crime boss, the Black Mask, who is planning to sell a prototype of a new drug to the highest bidder. NOTE: 2nd story in "Ruins of Gotham." Sequel to "Shadow in the Night."
1. Ascension

**Author's Note: **

This is the second story in an ongoing anthology featuring The Dark Knight and is a sequel to my first Batman fic, "Shadow in the Night." Feel free to leave any helpful reviews once you've finished reading, they are encouraged! Plus, I make it a point to read and review anyone's stories who has done so for me! That being said, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1:

Ascension

"This is unacceptable!" Commissioner Gordon threw a copy of the Gotham Times down on his desk, his eyes burning with a rare furry. _FALCONE ARRESTED, BATMAN STILL AT LARGE_. "What happened this time? And please, try to be original with your excuses." Detective Bullock stood beside his partner, Detective Bennett, and shrugged with unease, his mouth sinking in his morning donut. Detective Matthews and Officers Miggs were behind them. Bennett spoke first.

"If I may Sir, the Batman did deliever us Carmine Falcone. I think it's pretty clear he's trying to help."

Gordon glared. "Your support of this criminal concerns me Detective. How am I supposed to know where your loyalties lie?"

"That's an unfair question Sir."

"Excuse me for placing the saftey of this city over any compassion toward the Batman."

"If you were so concered about the people then you'd let him help."

"I don't want another word out of you, understand?" Bennett nodded. "He's a vigilante and I want him off the streets, before anyone gets killed. Effective immediately, Lieutenant Ferguson will be in charge of the Batman's capture."

"This guy could inspire copycats" Miggs mentioned.

"Finally, someone is making sense. This is exactly why the Batman must be caught. He's dangerous." He held the newspaper at head level and put his finger on the front page. "Next time I read this, I should see Batman on the front page, and behind bars. No excuses." His eyes scanned the room. "Do whatever necessary to take him down. The Batman's days are over."

* * *

He was never one for disobedience, but the Commissioner had found a way to bring it out in him. Ethan Bennett had always followed the rules to the letter and stood his ground whenever he needed to. When Gordon assigned him a part on the Batman case, he couldn't turn it down. The Batman was a symbol of speculation, and fascination. Bennett never understood why a man, so obviously torn between right and wrong, would spend his nights trying to purge Gotham from its own corruption like he was cursed to pay some unsettled debt from his past. Bennett believed that Gotham needed such a savior, one who would go beyond the jurisdiction of the arm of the law to subjugate the scum who plague the streets. He knew Gordon was too brash with his efforts to catch the Batman, thought Bennett had a great deal of respect toward him, regarding him as one of the best cops in the business. In most cases he would follow Gordon to the tee, no questions asked. Bennett had no regrets in standing his ground when it came to the protection of Gotham. Nothing was more important to him than that.

The corridors of the apartment building were dark, even with the lights on. Bennett couldn't afford much, so he had to settle. Gotham's apartments didn't have much to offer. They were cheap and kept you from living on the streets. Bennett was aware of the low poverty rate when he moved to Gotham. His only wish was that he could do enough on the force to ensure a better life for those in the city. But he knew it would take time.

Bennett opened the door of his apartment and stepped inside. He turned on the lights, took off his coat and hung it around the back of the door. As he neared the kitchen, he threw his keys on the counter. He opened the fridge and grabbed an ice cold beer. He began to drink. A voice called out to him.

"Good evening Detective" Batman began.

The sudden shift in calmness drove the beer from his mouth. His warm brush against his skin cleared the leftovers from his lips. "God. You've got to stop doing that" he exhaled. His partnership with the Batman had only been in place for a year but now it finally registered with him that it was getting too big to contain. It was only on nights like these that Bennett felt guilty about his decision to associate himself with a fugitive his employer wants captured, even if there wasn't a doubt in his mind that Batman could get the job done. If Gordon found out his alliance, it was compromise everything and he would have a new view on a life he could have avoided if not for his secret allegiance. It's not like he could tell Batman to call it off, he didn't know what he was capable of, he wasn't sure if he could fully trust him. Only a part of him gave Batman the chance he thought he deserved, to prove to the scum of Gotham that their days were numbered and that they had someone to answer to, above the law, who could take matters into his own hands with consequences he deemed necessary to cement his stature as the dark guardian of Gotham. He knew it wouldn't be possible without the resources that the Gotham Police Department had in their possession, a crucial step in his war on crime. So he decided to continue helping him. "How'd you get in here?"

"You left your sliding door unlocked. I thought that as a detective you'd know better."

"Ever try using a door?" His question didn't evoke Batman's response.

"Gordon's on to you."

"I've noticed." Batman grazed Bennett's shoulder and approached his desk.

Turning to accompany Batman's movement, he carried the conversation. "I've tried spreading a good message, but, well...you know."

"I don't expect Gordon to understand" speaking as he examined the desk's contents.

Bennett took another sip of beer. "Good work with Falcone by the way."

"It won't last. He'll get out." He turned from the desk and faced the wall, which was covered with papers of wanted fugitives. "Looks like you bring your work home with you."

"You should talk." Batman angled his position to acknowledge Bennett, who continued the previous conversation. "I wouldn't doubt it. The system is corrupt. And with Falcone behind bars, Black Mask controls all the crime in the city."

"Then we'll take him down."

"Falcone may have power, but Black Mask has money. Gordon will be expecting this. He doesn't like competition. Least of all from you." Opening the fridge, he placed the half empty bottle on the shelf and shut the door.

"That's not my concern."

"Just be careful. I'll do my best to keep Gordon away from Black Mask" he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"I didn't come here for your permission Detective."

"What then?" Batman pulled a slip of paper from his belt and handed it to Bennett. "What's this?"

"A list of Falcone's known associates."

"This is incredible. How'd you get these?" he asked while looking over the papers. In that moment, he knew his allegiance with the Dark Knight was ultimately the right move. It could have taken longer to gather such information, and without such a support Gotham's crime could have been much higher than their current rate.

"Threw my criminal data base. Once I ran his name, it didn't take long to cross reference him with his past informants."

"All these names, it would have taken years to find them all." They now had enough evidence to lock Falcone away for many years, a step forward to cleansing Gotham from its infection. "Thanks Batman, we owe you one." His shock still evident.

"Don't thank me yet."

"I might not get to later." Bennett set the papers on his desk, his smile never once fading. "What do I tell Gordon when he sees this?"

After waiting seconds for a response, he realized he was the only one in the room.


	2. Mask of Insanity

Chapter 2:  
Mask of Insanity

A trim woman walked dispassionately through the cheerless corridors of a mansion, carrying nothing more than a newspaper that barely weighed her right hand down with its empty mass. Her footsteps echoed through the corridors of the estate as pressure from her rigid shoes pressed firmly against the surface under her feet. Intense beams of light shined from above, projecting radiance down upon the burnished and glistening surface of the ground below.

The door creaked as she opened it to enter the main room. A large, menacing window stood at the far end of the room. A man, in a simple dark blue business suit stood in front of the ominous skyline with a glass of wine in hand. Two automatic pistols were strapped at his waist. His back faced the office desk that was behind him. Three designer davenports, each seating three men, surrounded the desk. From a distance, he looked like the other men surrounding the room. His body structure was the same, his height was slightly above average, but with a strong build. His grimace was his only distinguishable trait. His head was covered in a guise, a black skull.

The men in the room caught sight of the secretary. They were mesmerized at the sight of her appearance. Although she wore a simple business suit, she looked like an angel in their eyes. She had long brown hair and blue eyes that resembled the sky. Her lips were rose red, they glistened in the light that shined on her. Her body itself was in perfect proportions. The legs she walked on were long and limber, but it was her high heels that sold the picture. "I have the paper Sir." Her voice was a touch of heaven. The Black Mask did not acknowledge her. The men examined her.

"Look at the ass on that!"

The remark evoked a dirty look from the secretary.

"That was hot."

"You couldn't have a woman like that in your dreams Barney" the man beside him said.

"Least I've had a woman."

The Black Mask spoke. "Enough!" The men grew silent.

As the second most powerful crime boss in Gotham, Black Mask, or Roman Sionis, held the honor high. Anyone who worked with him or knew him never defied him. As with Carmine Falcone, fear and intimidation brought Black Mask to the forefront of Gotham's criminal underworld. His brutal and sadistic torture techniques, especially on the face, made sure all his henchmen were loyal and obedient. Black Mask's enemies, as well as the general public of Gotham feared him. He maintained connections to gather information on his rivals. With such information, Black Mask is then able to hit them at their weak points, such as their family and friends.

Black Mask turned from the window and faced his audience. "Let's get back to the matter at hand." He held out his right hand. The secretary placed the paper in his hand and backed away. "Celebration is in order. It's not every day your business rival gets locked up." He tipped his drink to the men and drained it in his throat. They roared with excitement. "This is a day to be remembered. That filth Falcone is finally off the streets. But, the good and bad go hand in hand." Black Mask could tell the men were confused. "Let me elaborate." He walked to the window and stared out to the city. "The Batman, a symbol of misguided justice, a man who thinks he can save a city not even worth saving, is a potential risk."

"Shouldn't we be more concerned with the cops? I mean, the Batman's just one man. Right?"

Black Mask turned from the window and made his way to his desk. He poured another glass full of wine. "One man can still pose a threat."

"So, you think that since the Bat got Falcone, that he's gonna be comin' for you?"

"That's what I'm suggesting." He slammed back another glass of wine. "The Bat is bad for business. I want him out of the equation."

"Just like that? Kill the bat?"

"Yeah, just like that. The pigs are ridin' him too. And with the Bat being hunted from both sides of the law, we can move in." Black Mask set the paper on the desk and drew his knife. He placed the blade around the picture of Batman and cut around it. "I control this city now." He held the picture at arms length and grabbed his lighter from his pants pocket. Igniting the flame, he moved the photo of Batman over the fiery rage. He took his cigar from a container on his desk and held it against the burning paper, lighting it. With the cigar against his lips, he inhaled the smoke. After a few seconds, he blew it from his mouth. "The Batman will burn. And from the ashes, chaos."

"So, we're not worrying about the cops?" An obvious, yet crucial question.

Black Mask lowered his cigar, nearing his inquirer. "Hold out your hand."

He did as he was told, although aversely. Smartly, he didn't speak.

Black Mask's rough hand pulled harshly. His palm facing him, he rolled his sleeve to his elbow. "Ronnie, you know I don't respond well to insults" he spoke with an edge, a fog of smoke breathing through his lips.

"Boss, I... I eh.. meant no disrespect."

"Of course you didn't. And the matter with the cops, let's just say I've got other plans for them." His other men didn't dare speak. They all knew Ronnie's fate could be their own. They could only sit there and watch. "Their priority is the Batman. They don't have the assets to touch me. But I have the means to touch them." Holding Ronnie's hand in place, he slowly pressed the front of the cigar against his flesh, boiling the muscle, and turning the pasty white skin to a singeing shade of crimson red. He sustained pressure against the blistering pain for many moments before he released his grip.

Ronnie moaned in agony, his steaming hand held under the other.

Black Mask glared at others that surrounded him, who tried to ignore the event. "Any other questions?" No answer. "Good." He breathed another breath of smoke. "Now, for the matter at hand, the Batman. A man above the law. And with my resentment toward Gordon and his force withstanding, I have a plan to eliminate both Batman and Gordon with one move. I have an inside man who has earned Gordon's trust, enough so he can relay information in regards to Gordon, and their investigation on the Batman. With him in place, I will know every move Gordon makes, and when Batman makes his. The simplest is the most effective. We won't go after the Batman, we let him come to us."


	3. Crime and Punishment

Chapter 3:

Crime and Punishment

A full moon loomed over Gotham City, casting a dark shadow over the streets within. Pouring rain bred a cold breeze that swept through the desolate streets as a mist of fresh water vapor ascended from the chilling ground. Thunder struck the soul of the city as lightning flashed with wrath and intensity as it purged the darkness, a shadow that suspended citizens with distress and despair. Their clammy hands trembled violently under the fresh, heavy breeze, generating disarray through the rest of their bodies. The ground below their feet was slick, making it difficult to get a firm footing.

Within the distressed borders, several lights failed to brighten the roads as they sputtered numerously. Another stormy autumn evening set the mood in the depths of Gotham. Calm days ceased to exist in such a town. Instead, crime polluted the inner streets like an infection coursing through a weak body. This night was no stranger to the people that called it home.

Above the roar of the city, Batman was mounted on a sculpture of a gargoyle; its eerie appearance perfectly matched his definitive roughness. From there he could easily look over the streets of Gotham. A woman's shriek caught his attention. He rose immediately and lunged from the edge of the carving.

As he descended the building, vigorous gusts of wind thrust against his rough surface, gradually slowing his plunge. Firmly pressing his arms against his side, Batman blocked the passageway so the flares would slow his decline. Continuing his rapid descent, Batman executed a front flip and thrust his legs downward to further accelerate his plunge. He thrust his arms upward and gripped his cape firmly. Extending his arms outward, he expanded his cape s surface, preventing air from traveling upward. With this gradual descent, he glided across Gotham as the harsh breeze briskly propelled Batman in a leftward motion, allowing him to further soar through the sky. The gusts flourished through his cape as it brushed against its soft fabric. He landed atop the surface of a building where the scream originated.

Three assailants stood before a woman in the backstreets of a jewelry store, in just enough light that swelled from the street lights on the other side of the alley. The woman struggled for release, but the men gave no such comfort. Batman lingered in shadow, unknown to the men on the surface, and watched the attack.

"Look boys, we got ourselves a feisty one."

She thrashed in their arms.

"Now that's not very wise, Miss." One of the muggers approached her as the others stood behind him.

The woman dug her heel in the man's crotch. He slapped her. She screamed.

"You don't do that." He drew a knife and covered her mouth so the cries would be softened. It's harsh, bitter edge, raw and crisp, pinched her flesh. "Now tell me you're sorry."

She spat in his face.

He pressed firm against her skull, crushing it against the building's facade. "I'm gonna have some fun with you." He caressed her legs as he grazed her long, curly blond hair. They were both as smooth as silk.

She moaned as he reached her upper thigh.

He washed the sweat from her thigh as he stroked her and licked his finger. "Take a deep breath. This will all be over soon."

Her heart hammered her chest. The man smiled as he brushed her face. "You're going to enjoy this."

"Not as much as me" a voice called from behind him. He turned as a fist sent him to the ground. He caressed his jaw and looked up. The warmth of his hand was no comfort. Vengeful fists drew him in and tossed him aside like a ragdoll.

Batman towered over his prey as others circled him. "Big mistake Bats." He examined his targets. "You can't take all of us." He smiled. They moved in.

One threw a fist. Batman countered. He seized his shirt at the stomach and tossed him on his back. His teeth shattered on the landing. Another fist was thrown. Batman dodged. He turned and clutched the back of his neck, driving him against the wall. His nose fractured against the force. Blood smeared down the surface as he dropped to the ground. Batman began to near the final thug. From behind him a gun cocked and its sound discontinued his advance. He glanced behind him. The woman he was trying to protect was now on her feet and pointing a gun in his direction.

"Don't move Batman. This is Lieutenant Ferguson of the Gotham City Police Department. I'm placing you under arrest." She revealed her badge.

Batman looked at her. Her face, straight and forced, painted a clear picture of her intentions.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, and don't try anything funny." Batman remained motionless. "Now get up against the wall, slowly." She fixed her gun on Batman as he approached the wall. "Put your hands above your head." The other officers surrounded the area. One pinned Batman beside the wall and forced his hands behind his back, blood still leaking from his nose.

"Enjoy your fifteen minutes?"

Batman delivered a crippling blow the officer's stomach with his elbow. He gripped the officer's wrist and flung him around. Bending him on his back, he crushed it with a forceful fist. He swung him around again and threw him at Lieutenant Ferguson, sending the both to the cement. The other officers had no time to react. Batman pulled a round pellet from his belt and threw it down. It burst and filled the area with a blanket of smoke. They covered their mouths and coughed. When the smoke cleared, Batman was gone. Lieutenant Ferguson grabbed her radio and held it against her mouth and began running in the direction the Batman disappeared.

"Commissioner Gordon, this is Lieutenant Ferguson. Requesting backup. We have an officer down. The Batman is on the run but we're in pursuit. Close every road north of Park Avenue."

"Make sure he doesn't get far."

"He's got a couple minutes lead on us but we should be able to get him within half the hour."

"Don't let me down Lieutenant."

She didn't want to fail Gordon. This was her first full year as a Lieutenant, and with that, responsibility. She wanted the Batman caught as much as he did, which put her at odds with Detective Bennett. Even though she appreciated what the Batman did, she couldn't let his crimes go unanswered. Every act of disobedience had to have a punishment. The Batman's was overdue.


	4. Descent Over Gotham

Chapter 4:

Descent Over Gotham

It concealed him, at least only for a moment, as the search lights passed over him for the second time. Inside the vacant walls of Gotham's abandoned cathedral, Batman sat in silence, seeking shelter against its bristly and broken façade. It provided no refuge from the onslaught of bullets as they pierced the stained glass windows, leaving pieces of the once complete angel across the smudged floor. He knew it wouldn't be long until the pillars gave out. It wasn't the best place for relief but it was his only option. He couldn't risk returning to the cave until the officers lost his trail. Gordon's men were getting wiser. This was the first time they managed to catch him unaware and off-guard, a rarity for anyone. His focus had diminished through the night, and he was forcing himself to say alert. If he managed to survive a few more years, his current flaws would diminish. Lessons were learned through time. He had no choice but to live day by day, and plan his strikes accordingly. One mistake could mean the difference between life and death, a line he dared not cross, not so early on in his career.

After moments of endless gunfire, the firing ceased. In a distant, shattered window, Lieutenant Ferguson and five of her officers entered the church. They held their guns firmly ahead and walked cautiously around the sanctuary, all searching different areas. Ferguson brushed through the first row of empty pews. Batman knelt and crept along the aisle in between the pews and the leftward wall, passing each of the three pillars to his right. An officer entered his gaze, who stopped to look at Ferguson. Batman merged with the shadows and remained motionless.

"Briggs, Thompson, spread out. He couldn't have gone far" Ferguson ordered, unenthused. It seemed like she was always given the "cat and mouse" assignments, much to her displeasure. The Batman had evaded all of their efforts in the past and this latest attempt would end the same way. The Batman had brains, that much was clear in her mind. No ordinary man could outrun and outsmart the GCPD on several different occasions. Somehow, the Batman managed to do it. She knew she was fighting a losing game, but it was a price she had to pay to keep Gordon happy, even if they came back to the station empty handed. Ferguson was the only one who really connected with Gordon on a personal level. She really understood him. His passion for the law and his sworn dedication to keep it intact are what made him a respectable man. He was the reason she joined the force. After her father was murdered after forty years of duty, she thought it was her turn to step in and fill his shoes. After Gotham's former Commissioner, Gillian Loeb, resigned, Gordon's transition to the role made it easier for her to fit in, as she wasn't the only new member of the force. Gordon stood by her every step of the way, from training, and promotion. He was like a surrogate father, and a damn good one.

Her men did as they were commanded and searched the grounds. To them, the cathedral seemed the most unlikely place a ruthless vigilante would find solace in, but life was full of strange surprises. This was the only mission where they criticized Gordon's choice in who should call the shots. Lieutenant Ferguson was widely disliked throughout the force for being self-righteous, arrogant, and genuinely unpleasant. She scolded just about everyone for simple mistakes and criticized anyone who didn't meet her perfect standards. Still, they had no choice but to follow her orders.

Briggs and Thompson swept the area, carefully examining any abnormalities that the cathedral might contain. The entire building was covered in dust, a tool that was useful in tracking any man. In this case, irrelevant, the Batman wouldn't be that thoughtless. For a church of God, it was a haunting sight. Seasoned and withered, it was a wonder why the walls were still erect. To the people, it was a landmark and a lost symbol for a dead hope. With it still standing, there was a slight chance hope could one day return. Those days had since been a distant reality and the city had stopped coming to search for a new savior.

"We're never going to find him like this. There's six of us and only one of him. If we spread out we have a better chance of catching that sonofabitch" Briggs demanded.

"Hey, I'm just following the bitch's order. You got a problem, you take it up with her" Thompson replied.

"Like Hell. She hasn't given me shit all day, and that's not going to start now."

"We've been after the Bat for months now. You'd think Ferguson would grow tired of this wild goose chase."

"You'd think." Briggs examined the area before he continued speaking. There was a narrow passageway ten feet ahead of him and a large statue of Jesus to it's right. Briggs nodded his head in the direction. "Why don't you check that way, and I'll keep looking around here."

Thompson acknowledged. He left Briggs to his duty and headed to the back of the cathedral. A hall stood before him. It angled to the left and held three rooms, one on one side, and two on the other. He approached the rooms and entered the one to his right. It was aged like the rest of the church. From what he could tell, the room used to be an office. He flashed his light around, but nothing stood out to him. He moved in to the next room, nothing was different. There was no door in the third room. A few children toys lay in the far right corner. Playbooks were stacked in rotted shelves, their pages almost ash. Briggs left the room and went down the splintered stairs to the basement. Every step created a light crack in the board. The darkness was more noticeable, as was the level of dust. Covering his mouth, he grabbed the railing and stepped on the concrete floor. He flipped a light switch on the wall to the right of him, an action that produced nothing. Sweat formed over his forehead and dribbled down his face. With his free hand, he held his flashlight ahead of him and followed the light that led him through the emptiness. He was surprised at the length of the basement. It was a few hundred feet. There were no additional rooms to be seen, no objects of any kind to be named, save for the couple of rats running through a hole in the wall out of fright. The light dimmed the farther he got into the basement. Total darkness. He beat the end of the handle with his hand and shook it violently. The light came back on, only to go off a second later. "Shit."

Thompson hated the dark. Nothing made him more nervous. Fear of the unknown weighted more in his paranoia than darkness. Adding the possibility of the Batman lurking in its shadows raised his anxiety. His heart pounded in his ribcage, pulsing faster with every second. Sweat stung his eyes. His whole body shook. His only defense was worthless. A bullet would prove ineffective when fired in his current ominous environment. After repeated poundings, his flashlight sprang to life. The Batman stood before him. He drew his gun but had no time to respond. Batman seized his arm and tightened his grip, releasing Brigg's hold on the gun. Batman's elbow met his stomach. He clenched his neck and positioned one foot behind him, forcing him to the floor. A firm strike to Thompson's cheek finished the assault. Batman glanced down at the radio that had fallen from Thompson's belt. He narrowed his eyes and threw his foot on the radio, destroying it.

Batman stood, undefied over the fallen officer, sweat-less. There were more of Gordon's men on the floor above him, undisturbed, and still hunting. Thompson was handled with ease but the others might not be so effortless. They wouldn't be so easy to catch off guard, which made it all the more demanding. It was foolish to take on all officers at once without a distraction. He pulled a thin, black remote from his belt and pressed it's center button to turn on a light. It's red glow flashed continuously. With his free hand he held Thompson by his right leg and dragged him through the dark abyss. He was careful not to injure his body as he crept up the stairs.

Lieutenant Ferguson and her squad greeted the Batman as he emerged from the dismal corridor. There were six officers, to his count, including Ferguson. Without moving he carefully studying their movements, taking into account the outside officers as well. Any moment they could open fire, so he had to make his move. His timing had to be precise. If he was just a second off it was over. His leverage wouldn't hold forever, so he had to make this count. The light on his remote turned a solid blue. Batman pressed the button, and waited.

"Stay where you are Batman! This is your last chance. Come with us peacefully, or we'll be forced to take you in the hard way" she said, her gun fixed on a motionless Batman. The officers were ready to fire. Every few seconds they glanced at Ferguson, expecting an order. "Release Officer Thompson and put your hands over your head." Heavy shrieking lingered in the distance. Ferguson and her officers questioned the noise. It grew louder as it approached them. "What is that?" They looked around the room again. "It sounds like…" Batman threw his device toward them. A swarm of bats burst through the windows and invaded the church. They surrounded the officers, buying Batman time to escape. "All units open fire!"

Batman lept through the window. A bullet cut Batman's left shoulder as another grazed his right leg. He groaned and staggered along the edge of the building. Another bullet ripped his cape, just passing his left ankle. Ferguson stood. A bat brushed her face. She helped the others to their feet, the bats continuing to flood them. She spoke into her radio.

"Commissioner, we have him! He's heading east on 14th Street!"

"Move in around Garrison Street and cut him off from the buildings opposite. This is now a citywide manhunt. All units are granted permission to shoot-to-kill if necessary. If the Batman resists, take him out" Gordon said.

"Understood." Ferguson turned to her squad and spoke. "Alright, listen up. Commissioner Gordon wants us to use brute force if the Batman becomes too much of a problem. If that happens, we kill him. Is that clear?"

"Yes Lieutenant" an officer responded.

"Good. Now let's go."

Batman rested alongside a nearby building, his left hand sheltering the wound on his shoulder. He forced a deep breath, attempting to calm himself and looked to his left. Police sirens were fast approaching. Reaching to his side, he tore a large piece from his cape and tied it around his leg. He tore another piece and wrapped it over his shoulder. A bullet dented the wall beside him. Batman evaded the gunfire, disregarding the officer's order to remain motionless. Another bullet pierced the side of the building seconds after Batman disappeared behind the wall onto a new city block. He cut across on River Street and pulled a grappling device that was attached to his belt, aligning it with the top of the building ahead of him that stood across from open waters. He pulled the trigger and a long wire with an attached hook at the front shot from its barrel. It reached the roof within seconds. Prongs extended from the hook and grabbed the edge of the roof, holding the wire in place. Batman clipped the grapple gun to his belt and pressed the trigger again, allowing him to ascend to the top of the building. He grabbed the side of the ledge and climbed over it to and laid on the surface.

"He's retreating to the rooftops" the officer proclaimed.

"Don't just stand there Briggs, move your ass!" Ferguson ordered as she ran past him, leading a squad of ten officers behind her. She approached the building's staircase and kicked the door open. "Let's take him down boys." Her officers brushed past her and she followed once the last man was in. Several flights stood between them and the rooftop. Ferguson only hoped that they were fast enough. The Batman had gotten lucky, and up to this point it worked in his favor. But as with any man, his luck could run out. She and her squad burst through the rooftop door. Frantic footsteps spilled through as the officers breached, flooding its vicinity and targeting the Batman. "There's no where left to run Batman. It's over."

Batman stood over the edge, on the brink of being enslaved by gravity. He was surrounded. The wind began to increase heavily and the gusts were more forceful. Batman turned. A police helicopter appeared from beneath the roof. Its searchlight blinded him. "You're out of warnings Batman" an officer spoke over the speaker. "Open fire!" Bullets riddled the top of the building, forcing Batman toward the opposite side of the roof. A missile was released as he neared the edge. It blew into a sweltering blaze on collision, throwing Batman down into the swelling waters.

Ferguson boarded the helicopter barely hovering over the roof, ordering the pilot the search the vast waters of the Gotham River. Hovering over the open waters and scanning its calmness, the light was concentrated directly beneath them. After a few seconds, the light shifted ahead of them and faced the piers. Wooded and aged, and washed with moss, they stood five feet off the waters and stretched a quarter of a mile from the land. Once over them, Ferguson stepped down from the helicopter and walked along the planks. Two officers followed her as lights searched for signs of movement. Ferguson reached the end of the pier, her eyes gazing the miles of water. The wind cooled her face, comforting her, lifting her hair through its gust. She stared into the deep blue and lost herself in its mystery, vastness captivating her. Gazing through the waters, Gotham seemed smaller, less important, calming her with the chilling touch of the waves cracking against the pier. The clouds overhead grew dim. A storm was coming. She scanned her surroundings while the rain disrupted the previously calm waters. She looked left, then right as she went down the pier, carefully examining every possible area of shelter it could contain. Reaching the helicopter, she stopped, and stared ahead. The pilot ushered her as the liquid bullets fell from the sky. She looked behind one more time. A shadow passed under the waters. Abruptly she turned and removed her gun from her side to fire at the disturbed waters. Officer Briggs ran to her side and grabbed her wrists, diverting the bullets from the waters and ceasing her fire. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ferguson demanded.

"You need to take a deep breath and relax" Briggs said once Ferguson lowered her gun.

"I almost had him. Christ" she signed. Her breaths were uneven and spaced, slightly withered from stress's heavy pressure._  
_

"You're not thinking straight. You haven't slept in days. What you saw was probably just a fish swim under some seaweed. That's all."

Ferguson buried her head in her hands. The never-ending work load was overwhelming. She ate, slept, and bled the Batman. It was a dark decent and one she thought she was ready for. The further she remained on the case the further she sunk in the abyss. Her surroundings were a pale reflection of the woman she'd become; void, and filled with generic imperfection. The open sea stared at her unrelentingly, watching her drown in her regret as the string of life's disappointments consumed her. In her eyes, catching the Batman meant more to her than the opinions of others. She longed for acceptance, a motive to keep her going in her otherwise dying world, something to finally make her proud.

"It's been a long night Lieutenant. You need rest. We'll catch him another time. He's long gone by now."

Without saying a word, she carried herself until she sat inside the helicopter's uncomforting embrace. As they pulled away there was a shift in the water under the pier. Bloody and torn, Batman emerged from the underneath, just as the helicopter returned to Gotham. Batman removed the small breathing apparatus that covered his mouth, climbed to the top of the pier, and laid on his back, water dripping from his mouth as he gasped for relief. He reached for the ear of his cowl and pressed firmly against its side with his slim and tender fingertip, sending a call to his one true ally, Alfred Pennyworth. Alfred had been Bruce's loyal and trusting butler ever since he was a small boy, and has remained at his side ever since. But over the years, he has become like a surrogate father. Alfred was the sole person he could entrust everything, including his secret life as Batman. Over the years he has given Bruce advice ranging from relationship advice to personal morals. He has supported his life as Batman without any doubts, although he stated on many occasions that he fears for his safety. "Can I help you Sir?" Alfred asked promptly.

"I need you to send me the schematics for the Black Mask's mansion. I'll need to get in without getting caught." His voice was weak, and raspy.

"Sir, you don't sound well. Your suit is showing major signs of trauma and stress. I suggest that you return immediately for proper medical attention and bed rest."

"I'll be fine" he said, rising from the wooden panels beneath him.

"You realize you could die if you're not attended to soon."

"It won't take long. I just need a way in."

"I cannot do that Sir. I won't jeopardize your health. You need to come back now."

"Don't do this Alfred."

"You need to think this through. You're letting your stubbornness get in the way."

He knew Alfred was right. His defiance was rare. He was the only one he ever trusted, the only one in his life worth a damn. With Alfred, he didn't have to share his grief alone. He always had someone to go back to and find solace in, even if it meant being reminded even he could be wrong. "Let's just get this over with."


	5. Old Wounds

Chapter 5:

Old Wounds

The cave was hardly the heart of his desires. Chasms, caverns, and bats never cried pleasure, though a falling wall of water made it more of a pleasant experience. As Bruce tended to the scourge of Gotham, Alfred would regularly maintain the equipment presently in the cave, and keep Bruce updated as much as possible to aide in his never-ending quest for vengeance. It was an ominous task but it came with his duty. Though anything but welcoming, Alfred believed the cave was an extension of Bruce's psyche. At the same time, he felt it was a nightmarish trip to the depths of his subconscious.

It wasn't a choice that brought him to shadow Bruce's endeavors. Obligation and honor of an old promise kept him driven to support his surrogate son. Since Bruce was young, Alfred played the roles of both a mentor, and a figure of authority, even when Bruce's parents were around. When Bruce would get out of line, Alfred kept him in check, though those days were hardly a reality.

Throughout the years, after the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Alfred and Bruce grew closer, forming a relationship shared by father and son. The relationship was hardly perfect. As Bruce grew older, his vendetta matured and ripened to pure hate. Irrational, and unbiased, it burned in his heart and boiled a hole too great to be filled.

The night he first donned his cape and cowl was the last time Alfred thought he'd see Bruce. That night, his fear came true. He never saw Bruce again. The man who returned was a stranger in his eye. The closeness severed, and the feeling broken. The child whom Alfred raised was murdered by a new beast, born out of the plague that Gotham breeds.

Bruce's masquerades converted a new reality. Every night held the same worry, a question forever trapped in the front of Alfred's mind, the realization that one night Bruce may never make it back. It could be from injuries sustained while continuing his career, or from a punk who happened to get lucky. Alfred knew this could be a possible outcome, far from the realm of uncertainty. He never kept it to himself. He spoke of his fear regularly, often to an indifferent shell of a boy he once knew. It never mattered. Bruce would regularly disregard Alfred's concerns. Yet Alfred remained at his side, always in support of Bruce's path, with hopes of one day seeing the boy he's missed.

Alfred stood in the middle of the large chasm, patiently waiting. The cave was cold and breathless, probably from a lack of decent sunlight, much like Bruce's current state of mind. There were vast amounts of rocks and narrow tunnels that went around and through the cave. A flock of bats surfaced in a black furry through one of the cavern's dusty tunnels meters away, then fleeted into the darkness as the emerging roar of the Batmobile calmed Alfred's concern. From the shadows, the metal goliath surfaced through the tunnels ahead of him. Its aggravated hum didn't bother him. He remained at a standstill until the Batmobile came to a stop at his side. The engine died and the roof of the car opened. Batman stepped on the grounds of his cave and faced Alfred, who spoke.

"I must say you made the right choice Sir."

"You didn't give me much of an option," he said, passing Alfred. Alfred followed him.

"Please tell me I'm not only one who can breach that narrow-minded head of yours?"

"Was that sarcasm Alfred?"

"Mild teasing at best. Lucky for you one of us has a sense of humor."

They passed a large chasm and entered a vault full of Bruce's vast equipment. Alfred stood beside Bruce as he stripped off his gear. A thick, glass locking case slowly emerged from the floor directly in front of him. Bruce placed the unique parts of his uniform in their proper places in the case. He closed the case and stared into the eyes of his mask. They glared back at him and only reminded him of the life he's chosen, the lives he's promised to save, and the lives that he has lost along the way. He pressed a button on the side of the case, which concealed itself in the floor.

Alfred followed a shirtless and muscular, yet severally bruised Bruce Wayne from the vault, the automatic doors shut behind them.

Bruce approached his supercomputer and sat down. He opened a file on Roman Sionis, the Black Mask. Alfred stood by his side.

"I have a bowl of chicken soup prepared for you Sir."

"I've got no time for food Alfred," an ignorant statement left his preoccupied mind and held no regards for the impact his words may cause.

Alfred looked over Bruce's damaged body and cleared his throat. "Punishing yourself is not the answer Master Wayne. It's not what they would have wanted."

Bruce turned from Alfred. "It doesn't matter anymore Alfred," he sighed in somberness.

"I beg to differ Sir. It does matter. You wouldn't be putting your body through this much stress if it didn't," a fact that didn't faze Bruce. Alfred took a short pause before speaking, knowing fully well that Bruce would disregard his suggestion. "Before you continue with your masquerade I suggest you get some rest."

"There's no time."

"Your mind may not be tired Sir, but your body is. You must let it recover. You can carry on with your due-diligence in the morning."

"I know what I have to do Alfred. Don't try and run my life." As the words left his mouth he knew he had struck Alfred's nerve.

"It's not just your life Sir." His voice, aggressive, yet firm, tore his soul once the words left him. Pausing for a moment, and staring down intently on the still troubled boy grieving from a past pain, he softened his tone. "This is not how I raised you Master Wayne. This is not how your mother and father raised you."

A grimaced expression overcame Bruce's face the instant those words left Alfred's mouth. Without Alfred, he knew he would have died.If it wasn't for him, he would have years ago. In Bruce's eyes, Alfred was his father, though only blood separated them. A constant voice of reason in the midst of all the wrong, his faith never faded from him. He knew it never would, even when all hope seemed lost. Alfred was his sole miracle in a life of constant tragedy. It took courage to raise him by himself, yet somehow Alfred managed the task. The pain of losing loved ones was shared by both, each handling that grief in their own way, Bruce, a crusader of the night, and Alfred, a caretaker and confidant. Without Alfred he never would have survived. Alfred's soft voice slowly came back to Bruce's ears.

"Just remember who you are Master Bruce."

"I know who I am Alfred. I don't need anyone to remind me."

"You may not need me to remind you Sir, but one day you'll thank me for it."

Alfred paused and stared into Bruce's angry eyes for an instant. "A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew. By three methods we may learn wisdom Master Bruce: first, by reflection, second, by imitation, and third by experience. You have neither of those, Sir. But you dare to be a fool, and that is the first step in the direction of wisdom."

Bruce shook off the remark and continued skimming through files."No man was ever wise by chance Alfred."

"You're right Sir. The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook. The doors of wisdom are never shut. As Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, 'The young man knows the rules, but the old man knows the exceptions.' And you Sir, know the rules, but I know the exceptions."

"What are you getting at Alfred?"

"You've conquered your fear, and that Master Bruce is the beginning of wisdom." Alfred smiled as he thought of his final words of advice. "Remember these words Master Bruce, 'We are made wise not by the recollection of our past, but by the responsibility for our future.'"

"You still haven't given up on me have you Alfred?"

"Never Master Wayne."

With those words he saw Bruce do something he had not seen since he was a young boy, smile.


	6. Pride and Prejudice

Chapter 6:

Pride and Prejudice

Gordon's office was almost as intimidating as Gordon himself, at least to some of the officers in Gotham. To Lieutenant Ferguson it was just another room. Gordon greeted her as she walked in and signaled for her to take a seat in the chair across from him. Gordon pulled his chair from under his desk and sat down, reading the distress and failure in Ferguson's eyes. Ferguson spoke.

"I'm sorry Gordon, we couldn't find him."

"I understand Jan" Gordon sighed. "Look, I know it's been hard on you the past couple weeks, ever since your mother passed…. Why don't you take the week off? It'll give you some time to clear your head. You'll feel much better."

"Sir, that's not necessary."

"I know it's not. I've been a little hard to talk to the past few months, and for that I'm sorry. And I don't want my fixation on the Batman to justify the way I've been acting."

"He's a criminal. He needs to be caught. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course not, but Gotham doesn't need another Gillian Loeb. And that's exactly how I've been acting."

"I'm with you one hundred percent of the way Sir. I want to catch that Bat-freak as much as you do."

"And we will. We just have to give it a little more time."

"Are you sure I should take the week off? I mean, is it a good idea?"

"It's no problem. I'll have Ethan cover for you."

"Bennett? Sir, with all due respect, you know how he is. If he had it his way, we'd be following the Batman."

"I know it doesn't seem like the obvious choice, but Ethan is more than capable. I wouldn't ask him if I didn't trust him." Gordon spoke with optimism, yet with a hint of urgency. Ferguson detected the manner in which the words were said and immediately verified his decision.

"I'm sorry Sir. You know what's necessary. It's just that, I'm still not used to such hospitality. That's not something that was served when I was a kid."

"I understand. But you'd better get used to it" Gordon said with a smile.

Ferguson blushed. "Thank you Sir. You don't know what this means to me."

"Have a good week Jan."

Ferguson smiled back at Gordon, brushing her hair from her face. "You too Sir." She turned away.

"I'll walk you out" Gordon said, nearing the door. "See you next week" he said as he held it open for her.

She left his office, a smile flexing her face.

Gordon spoke to his assistant, Bridget, once Ferguson left his side. "Tell Ethan I'd like to see him in my office."

Ferguson stole Bridget's words from afar. "No worries Gordon, I'll tell him."

"Thanks Jan."

She shot Gordon a friendly wave and turned the corner, housing Gotham's Finest in their bureaus. Ethan's was at the far end of the hall. Detective Matthews and Officer Miggs stood to the side of another office, one whom Ferguson has grown quite attached, Officer Blake. He was like her little brother, although they were roughly the same age. They looked out for one another, like a sibling would, though they had their bad days.

"Great. Here comes the bitch." Matthews said.

"Mornin' Lieutenant" Miggs added with a sarcastic smirk.

A half-assed wave was Ferguson's only gesture, playing off their mutual distaste for one another.

"Jan." Blake said.

"John." Ferguson replied in a welcoming manner. She stopped in front of his office. "Is Ethan around?"

"Yeah. Why do you want to talk to him?" John asked.

"Probably to give him a hard time" Matthews cut in.

Ferguson's face grew an unpleasant expression. "Get out of here Matthews."

Matthews laughed and left their side. Miggs followed him.

Ferguson sighed. "Ethan's going to be covering for me this week. I need to know if he's on board."

"Did Gordon put you up to this?"

"His idea."

"Bennett should be in his office. He hasn't been out of there all day. Word is that Gordon's getting ready to promote him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, big surprise. After the way he's handled the Batman case, I'm surprised Gordon is even considering it."

"Stranger things have happened."

"That's what's Gotham's known for, a high crime rate and a man who dresses like a bat." She turned from John and began to walk away. "Thanks John, I'll see you later."

"Take it easy Jan."

"You too." She left his side and passed several doors before reaching Ethan's.

Through most of their time in the Department, her relationship with Ethan was purely business, and never personal. She never truly respected Ethan as a Detective, and barely as a person. She believed Bennett admired the Batman more than he admired Gordon, a prime example why she thought Ethan should be off the Force.

She knocked on the door. A voice called from within.

"Come in" Bennett said.

Ferguson stepped inside and greeted Ethan, who was busy with a pile of paperwork. "Bennett."

"Lieutenant Ferguson. What do you need?" he asked, returning to his work.

"I'm going to be taking the week off. Could you cover for me?"

"I'm a Detective. I can't take on your full time duties Lieutenant. I thought you knew that." He set his pen down and looked at Ferguson.

"Gordon insists."

"He didn't request anyone else?"

Ferguson crossed her arms and paced in the office. "No, for some reason he asked for you." Her body language told Ethan more than her words did. She was irritated, though her tone didn't express such a mood.

"I'll have to talk with him on that one."

"Well, you'll have to do it soon 'cause won't wait around."

Her last response almost pushed him, but he withheld his urge to fight back.

"Thank you Lieutenant. I'll get on it as soon as I have the time. You can go now" Bennett remarked, never once making eye contact.

Clearly irritated, Ferguson didn't reply, and left his office.

Bennett never cared much for Lieutenant Ferguson. She was too conceded and arrogant him to respect, and had an ego the size of Gotham City. The only thing worthy of her worship was the ground Gordon walked on, who always treated her like a daughter, making Ferguson believe she was his equal. In reality she was nothing more than a second rate copy.

A familiar sound disrupted his thoughts. He grabbed the cell phone strapped to his thigh and looked at its screen. Its typeface spelled 'Unknown Caller.' He was quick, yet apathetic in answering it.

"Now's not a good time. I'm not completely alone."

"Can you get outside?" a rough, firm voice asked him.

"I can try."

"Good. Let me know when you're there."

Bennett left his office. He turned a corner and walked at a discrete pace down the hallway, eventually making his way outside. He walked a few feet from the building and stood in the middle of the alleyway.

"Ok, I'm outside. What's so important?"

"Black Mask has been smuggling an unknown drug over Gotham for the past few weeks. It appears that he's working with someone inside Arkham."

"Do you know with whom?"

"No, but he's selling the drug to the highest buyer tonight, at his mansion. Rupert Thorne is expected to be there."

"How did you hear this?"

"Some of Black Mask's thugs were reluctant enough to give me the information I needed."

"If only that tactic worked for us cops. But you don't exactly operate by the standards of the law."

Batman noted the undertone of sarcasm in Ethan's voice, but he didn't respond with a comeback. "I'm taking him down. I need you to-"

Bennett cut him off. "If you want Gordon and his team down there, I'm not sure that's a good idea. You're a wanted fugitive, and we don't even have a warrant to arrest Black Mask."

"I need Gordon to stay clear of this. That would compromise everything."

"Then why call?"

"Expect a delivery tonight."

The line went dead and Bennett starred ahead at the wall in front of him. A voice called out from beside him, startling him.

"Important call?" Detective Harvey Bullock stepped from the shadows the walls created and imposed his dominance.

There was something Ethan didn't like about Bullock. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew there was something that seemed odd about him. Until he knew, he had to keep it to himself. "Don't you have somewhere you need to be Harvey?" Bennett asked while irately looking in Bullock's direction.

"Nah, I just got off. But if I remember, you're not for another hour." Bullock drew closer to Ethan, stirring his tension.

"If you're off then why are you here?"

"I was on my way, but I overheard a rather interesting conversation." He discontinued his advance, remaining three feet from Ethan. "I find it odd that if it was just a normal call you would have just talked in your office. But here you are, out in the cold talking to a person that you wish to keep a secret from everyone else, while having a discussion that no one is supposed to know about."

"I can guarantee you're misled."

"You know as well as I that's a bullshit lie."

Ethan narrowed his eyes at the remark.

"Face it Bennett, you're done." Bullock pulled a cigarette from the carton he had in his coat pocket and put it in his mouth, before lighting it with the lighter he already had in hand. "I've been keeping an ear on you, by Gordon's orders. Guess you weren't as sly as you thought you were." He lit the cigarette and inhaled the smoke, and just as quickly exhaled it. "What are you doing for him now?" He lowered his arm and starred into Ethan's eyes. "Bet the Bat didn't want us to know what his plans were, or who he was going to see. Well, seems that ship has sailed." Ethan began to speak but Bullock didn't give him the time. "And now I can report you to the Commissioner for voluntarily aiding a fugitive and withholding information in an ongoing investigation."

Ethan didn't have a response ready. His counter claim would be invalid against Bullock's spoken truths.

"What's the matter? Bat got your tongue?"

Ethan didn't speak. He knew he could fight this but he wasn't sure how. Every logical outcome ended with Gordon's rage. He didn't have the time to come up with an excuse that could raise his favor. There was no such excuse.

"Think on your sins Bennett." Bullock struck Ethan in the jaw, knocking him out cold. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. It rang several times before he got a response.

"What is it?"

"It's Bullock. You're going to have a visitor tonight."


	7. The Devil's Black Hand

Chapter 7:

The Devil's Black Hand

Sionis hated him almost as much as Falcone did. The other nine men he could tolerate, but not Rupert Thorne. His corporate attitude ruined his reputation as a successful crime boss and caused him to become distanced from the rest of Gotham's underworld. He thought about killing him in the middle of the room, in front of all his guests, but he didn't want to waste a perfectly good bullet. He refrained himself and maintained mingling with his secretary as they sat in his chair, ten feet from the others.

He glanced at his Rolex. It was time to begin. Rising from his seat, he greeted his guests. Everyone in the room gave their attention. "You all know why you are here." He turned and grabbed a briefcase that rested on the surface of the desk behind him. "This, is the prize." Sionis pulled a large needle from the briefcase and held it out, for all to see. It was a centimeter and a half in diameter, and six inches tall. There appeared to be nothing inside it, but as he held it out, his audience got a closer glance. It contained a discolored gas, barely visible to the naked eye.

"That's it?" Thorne asked as he examined the needle.

"It is. Just as I promised."

"It doesn't look like the stuff."

"It is, I assure you. Of course the shipment you'll receive will be much larger." Sionis returned the needle to the case, closed the lid, and placed it back on the desk. "This will change Gotham boys. My supplier said this is the prototype, and could prove to be very dangerous if used improperly."

"How much is he asking?"

"Let's start the bidding at $10,000." An amount that generated their interest.

"$12,000" Thorne raised.

"$13,000" another added.

Black Mask stood in reassurance as he poured another glass of wine. The amount continued to increase and he kept drinking.

"$19,000."

"$22,000."

Black Mask faced the gathering and smiled, throwing back shots in front of them. For the next half an hour the price continued to increase before reaching a peak of $35,000. No one increased the amount several minutes after the offer was made. Black Mask stood confidently in front of the winner.

"Congradulations Thorne" Black Mask approached him and ehanded his hand, which Thorne warmly received. "You're going too be a very happy man."

"Thank you. How long 'till it's ready?"

"The end of the month."

Thorne's face turned cold and retracted his hand. "You expect me to pay that much money for something I have to wait for?" Upon hearing this, the nine others in the room applauded his remark.

Sionis walked to his bar and poured a bottle of red wine in a glass he had in hand. He slammed the liquid back and paused before speaking. "You're all smart investors, but you don't know how to take risks."

Thorne was impatient. He didn't like waiting, especially for something he was guaranteed. He made a deal, with the devil as he grew to call him, and his hand would not be very forgiving of such a sacrifice, yet it was still his money and he knew what was best. "I'm backing out. If I won't get what's owed to me within a reasonable time then I can't justify spending my money."

"Very well, but this offer won't come again. And let me assure you" he turned toward his guests, "all of you, that when this ships from Arkham Gotham will be changed. That briefcase is worth more than what you'll pay tonight. That much I can guarantee. Everyone but Thorne gave Black Mask the approval he saught, instead he remained affirming. "It's too bad we can't come to an understanding. You could have made a large profit from this."

"I've got my options."

"You need this to cover your ass. You see, I dont go into a business with a man without finding out his secrets. If I read the reports right, you need this deal to regain your reputation, with the help of your employeer. Am I right?" smiling as he spoke. "You don't have the assets to purchase my item, that's why you're backing out."

The words stunned him, but after a seconds hesitation he regained his composure. "If you can give me 'till the end of the month, I can come up with the money but only if I can reserve the briefcase and all it's contents."

"I respect your confidence but that's not how this game works. Surely you know the business by now. Nothing personal, I assure you."

"My employer will kill me if I can't get this for him. He'll give me the extra money I just need the time."

"You should've stopped bidding while you we're ahead. Could've saved you the embarrassment."

"I'll give you what I got, just give me the briefcase."

"Sorry, all money needs to be paid upfront. I know it's unfair but if you're not going to pay then get out of my mansion." He received a punishing glare from Thorne, which pleasures him. Before Thorne turned, Sionis signaled the attention of two of his men. "Show Mr. Thorne the way out."

"Gladly Sir" one of them acknowledged.

The men approached Thorne and extended theirs hands before him. "Right this way."

Thorne knew it'd take time, but he wouldn't let this be the last time Sionis saw him. After a short moment, he turned. As Sionis's men walked him to the elevator, Sionis called out to him.

"I hope we can do business again" a smile stretched across his face.

He didn't responded and they vanished behind the elevator doors.

* * *

Calmness fell over the night sky. It's stillness lingered over those that traversed underneath the cold, ominous anxiety it produced. It had gotten colder, they could feel it in their bones. The stark contrast chilled their skin, but they left the room anyway. A black stretch limo sat ahead of them, shimmering under the moonlit night, awaiting Thorne's return, the only sight of comfort he'd seen all night. He welcomed the paradise without a seconds hesitation.

"Thanks for stopping by" an escort said, sarcasm overshadowing the remark.

Thorne embraced his limo without saying a word. He shut the door and ordered his driver, though his voice was muffled from the outside ears. The car pulled forward and drove away. The two men faced the mansion and walked toward the doors.

"How long do you think this will last?"

"I don't know Frank, hours. Who knows?" Charlie responded, stricken with boredom.

"You know I might be interested if I had the kinda money Black Mask is after."

"Like he needs it. He's got more money than he knows what to do with. If I was him, I'd give some of that to charity. You know, that one the Wayne Foundation supports."

"You don't even know the name?"

"The orphanage. And it's the thought that counts."

"Whatever."

"Hey, I grew up an orphan okay. I kinda had a soft spot and I wanna give something back."

"By what means? You ain't got shit."

"And now you know why that is."

"Shut up will ya? God." He crossed his arms and shivered under the wind. "Give me one of your cigs. I haven't smoked all day."

"Sure." He felt around for several seconds before removing his hand from his pockets. Charlie handed the carton of cigarettes to Frank, who reluctantly received them.

"Thank you." Frank lit the cigarette with the lighter he already had in hand and breathed in a fresh fog of relief. Before he could remove the flame from the ash, the orange flare perished from an unknown motion above them. "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Frank waited moments before acknowledging Charlie's remark. After seconds of gazing at the night sky his eyes turned to the unfazed man beside him. "Nothing. Nevermind. Probably just my imagination." He placed his hand on the doorknob and the unknown motion returned. "What the hell is that?"

"Maybe it's I don't know, a bird."

Frank's eyes met Charlie's in a burning rage. "Don't mock me." A semi-apologetic smile wrinkled the left side of Charlie's face forcing Frank's attention to revert to the door. "Let's see if the boss needs something else." He turned the knob and expected a response from Charlie, but he heard no voice. "You hear me?" When Frank looked back, Charlie was gone. "Charlie?" Charlie's carton of cigarettes fell from above, landing approximately four feet from where Frank stood. The smooth container felt wet in his clammy hands. He removed a cigarette from the pack and placed it in his mouth. Pressing his thumb against the lighter, rough against the surface of the flint wheel, he lit fire. A chill swept through him, killing the flame. "What the hell?" It stirred him. He raised his head and gazed toward the sky. A caped figure descended and engulfed him in darkness.

* * *

"$50,000. I must say that is a very generous offer" Sionis said, acknowledging the new high bidder. "Does anyone have a counter offer?" The entire gathering was voiceless. A smile grew across Sinonis's face. He did his best to conceal it, but his guests saw through the wrapping. "Congratulations are in order Mr. Briggs. It's not every day you get a package the size of Gotham. Just imagine the good that _will_ come from this joint venture. It's great to have you on board." With his left hand behind Briggs' shoulder, Sionis led him to his desk. "This product is now yours, assuming you can gather the funds to one location. That being right here, of course."

Once they stopped, Briggs spoke. "That won't be a problem Sionis. I just have to make a call."

"Very well." He excused himself and left Briggs to his means. With a full glass raised, he directed his next remark to his guests. "I would like to thank you all fdor coming, and for making this a very successful sale." They followed his lead and drank to his success. After a few moments, Briggs returned to Sionis.

"Good news. The money will be here within 30 minutes."

"You've just made a man very happy. I'll hand over the product when the money arrives."

"And I trust I will get the rest by the end of the month."

"You won't have to worry. You'l' be the first to know when it arrives."

"Pleasure doing business with you Sionis."

"The pleasure is all mine."

The celebration was disrupted as the main doors burst open. Tony, Sionis's most trusted henchman, ran through the room. "Boss, we've got a problem" he yelled, approaching Sionis.

"What is it?"

"The Bat, he's here."

It was a second before he responded. A computer sat on the desk to his left and he ran his hand over to the mouse. The screen lit up and held six separate frames, each showing a different location around his mansion. One captured Batman walking down a dark corridor. "Not to worry. I was well informed and prepared for such an eventuality." Sionis smiled. "Think you can handle it?"

"Sure Boss."

"Good" he said, while continuing to stare at the screen. "And try to keep the volume low. I don't want anything to disturb my guests."

"You got it."

"The Batman thinks he's unexpected, which gives us the advantage. All thanks to the traitor in Gordon's unit. Surround the premise and make sure he doesn't get any further."

"With pleasure." His voice maintained confidence, sucessfully hiding his doubts from Black Mask's detection. Had he been a simple throwaway lackey his fears would have been easier to find. Concealing emotions became the hardest part of his job. He couldn't afford to show any signs of weakness. As his time as Sionis' best man, the self-control had become mastered. When Sionis needed something, he turned to him. Failure hadn't been in his vocabulary and never had to be used as an excuse. He could be counted on for anything, even to dispose of wanted and unwanted guests. As he looked in Sionis's eyes a swense of empowerment overcame him. Ronnie told him days ago of the punishment he endured. He looked at his hand and shivered. "I won't let you down Sir."


	8. In Darkest Knight

Chapter 8:

In Darkest Knight

His presence went undetected after entering the mansion, which meant the upper hand was his to play. As Batman passed into another room, he was overwhelmed with various sculptures, paintings, and masks. Each breathed a unique flavor and style. Some of the paintings were airbrushed of famous scenes in history, others were a mix of assorted colors and abstracts, and a few were portraits of the likes of Al Capone. Sionis' mask collective was impressive even to Batman. Even through passing he noticed the Native American headdress, masks for a masquerade, and a slight few renaissance items. All conveyed Sionis' many different identities, all of which deranged. For a man who claimed to have all the money in the world, Black Mask knew how to exploit it.

Bruce knew Roman Sionis before he succumbed to Gotham's infection. Five years ago Sionis' company went bankrupt. He turned to Bruce, who offered to bail him out and to save his company on the condition that Sionis give up control and allow Wayne to appoint his own Board of Directors. Sionis let his pride and self-respect cloud his judgment and offensively rejected the proposal. Months later, Sionis closed the doors to his company and became a victim of his own demise and turned to crime in order to earn back his money. He was highly successful. Within a month, he had assembled dozens of petty criminals around Gotham, the False Face Society. Each member wore a distinctive mask from Sionis' own collection, which Sionis promised would allow them access to baser instincts and more powerful identities. The False Face Society spread rapidly through Gotham, eventually attracting the attention of the police. They remained anonymous and in time, they had stolen enough money to begin their own criminal empire. An empire so strong it never stopped growing. Before long, Roman Sionis, now the Black Mask became the second largest criminal underworld in all of Gotham, next to Carmine Falcone.

Bruce's guilt overcame his natural instincts. He felt a strange connection toward Sionis, almost like a bond. Their central reliance on the fixations of masks, fear, and dominance made them almost one in the same, a breakthrough Bruce did not care to acknowledge. He wouldn't kill, that's what isolated him and the criminals he brought to justice.

With his index and middle fingers firmly against his temple, he sent a signal from his cowl to the cave, where a reluctant Alfred received his call.

"I trust everything is going splendid Sir?"

"I'm fine. The mansion was easier to infiltrate than I expected."

"Do think you're walking in to a trap?"

"Yes. Hack the cameras around the mansion and find the safest way through without getting noticed."

"Gladly Sir. I bet you'll be glad when your sonar device has passed the testing stage. Then you won't need me to be your human GPS."

"Careful what you wish for Alfred."

"You'd think with all your computers and fancy gadgets that you'd want a normal person around from time to time."

Bruce appreciated Alfred's sense of humor. It always kept him in line with reality. There was still a boy inside him, lost in a field so dark who Alfred longed to reach and save from the pool of sorrow he was drowning in. An outcome Bruce knew Alfred would never accomplish. Was he already too far gone or was it simply that he didn't want to be saved because of the penance he was willing to pay? He didn't have an answer to that. There would never be.

"I did as you requested Sir. There appears to be no immediate threats."

"They must have found a way not to be seen. Thanks Alfred. I'll keep in touch."

The transmission was ended once Bruce removed his fingers from his temple. A tool cherished in his arsenal fell flat and rendered him useless. Without such an advantage Black Mask now had the upper hand, a benefit that could've proved crucial to his defeat. A new tactic had to be implemented. Brunt, full force was his only escape route. Even with limited options, his defeat was far from guaranteed.

Foreign voices echoed through the corridors ahead of where he stood. Crouching along the corner, he focused on their conversation.

"You think this is gonna work?"

"Of course it is. What the Bat doesn't know, well, is gonna hurt 'em."

Batman silently drew closer to the voices and knelt down beside the wall. From what Batman could see, there were only two guards in front of a large brown door, a door which he assumed led to the ball room where Black Mask was waiting. The distance from the wall to the door was about ten feet. White skulls hid their true face while firm against their chests rested automatic machine guns.

"So, what about that secretary huh? I'd let her do my dirty work if ya know what I mean."

"I'm pretty sure Boss is keeping her for himself."

"Wouldn't stop me."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna check the hall. You stay here and see if the Bat shows up."

"He ain't showin' up. I got a hundred bucks ridin' on it."

"Don't pout when ya lose it. I'll be back." He kept his gun comfortably along his chest and turned the corner. Of course no one actually believed the Bat was coming tonight. He just as well assumed it gave his boys busy work while Black Mask was getting it on with his secretary. That didn't bother him. As far as he could tell it was easy money, and that was the best kind. A pair of black and grey arms pulled him aside and thrust him against the wall. He was out before he could realize what happened.

"Mills?" he repeated his query several times, still receiving no reply. His gun, now angled ninety degrees with his body and the ground, quivered cruelly. Jimmy crept to the corner where Mills had disappeared, waiting silently for a possible reappearance. Rounding the corner, Mills' unconscious body met his gaze. "Shit." Jimmy's impulses betrayed him and he was pinned between two barriers, Batman and the wall, dropping his rifle in the process. Batman's forehead fractured Jimmy's, birthing a fresh trail of blood as he fell next to Mills' body. The crippling strike stained the front of his mask which he didn't bother to clean. Mills and Jimmy were two of Black Mask's throwaway thugs. They didn't put up a fight and were only exposed because they were paid to. It was a sure sign that Black Mask wanted to be touched. Even though he had the upper-hand he wasn't the only one who could play dirty.

Batman opened the door Mills and Jimmy had been guarding and stepped inside and was greeted by darkness. It never felt so ruthless. In all the years he'd use it to shelter his pain he never once felt so distant. A fractured shell of a boy stared back as he looked at himself, but there was no time for that. His eyes blurred once the lights came on. He and the twenty men surrounding him stood in Sionis' massive ballroom where he used to hold dances for charity. Each carrired assorted weapons, hand guns, automatic rifles, baseball bats, brass knuckles, crowbars, and knives proved that each man was more dangerous than the last. A grand staircase curved to an overhanging balcony fifteen feet above them. Black Mask stood in the center and began to speak.

"Welcome to my home Batman. Please make yourself comfortable."

Smiles painted the façades of those around him, ready to engage the final call.

"Don't worry about overstaying your welcome. You won't be here long."

"I agree."

"I'll give an extra ten thousand for the man who skins the Bat." Batman didn't have time to watch Sionis disappear behind the doors. The twenty men came all at once.

One took a swing with a baseball bat. Catching the splintered weapon, Batman drove it through his opponent's nose. Blood peppered the wood as he took the bat and close-lined another approaching him. A fist skimmed his face and in one fluid motioned he tightened his hand against the wrist and threw him at another, sending them both to the ground. An arm wrapped around his neck and stiffened its hook. Batman's elbow met with his opponent's stomach, releasing the strain. Reaching with both arms, he pulled his victim from behind and threw him to the ground. He turned around and struck another in the jaw. Clenching his bleeding face, the thug countered with a right hook, a blow that sent Batman back a few steps. A knife pierced his side, a gash his suit barely helped protect. The wound bled freely as Batman held his own. He delivered a crippling uppercut to his opponent and watched as he forcefully struck the ground in defeat.

Echoes of gunfire plagued the room. "Die you sonofabitch!" Batman lunged out of range and found solace behind a plaster wall, which vibrated with the impact of every bullet it stopped. The barrage of bullets ceased. "What's a matta? Chicken?" Batman clenched his wound and examined the remaining men. To his count only sixteen were standing. Even though such number was still too great to continue the same, it wouldn't slow him down. A new tactic had to be in place, one that would guarantee a positive outcome. Exhaling firmly, he fought against himself to continue his assault. Gunfire showered the backside of the wall, forcing Batman to withdraw. "Come on out Bats!" The ammunition followed his direction. Batman rolled to another corner and hid out of sight. "Damnit!" The men lowered their rifles and turned toward one another.

"One of us has to go find him."

"Not me. I don't paid enough for that."

"Pussy." He began to walk away from the group. "Looks like I'm got the biggest balls here. That five grand is mine."

The room fell prey to shadow, casting fear's ominous presence through the veins of those gathered. "Fuck. What happened to the lights?"

"The Bat's screwin' witdus."

"No shit. Find a way to get the lights back on."

"How we spossed ta do dat when we can't even see where we are?"

"Okay, okay, chill the fuck out. We probably just blew a circuit or something." An unknown force sent him to the pavement, a strike on which alerted the men's attention.

Darkness was his refuge, merely one tactic he employed that provided him a resource to cleanse the filth Gotham bred. It would only take him seconds now. His strength, potent and merciless, delivered with flawless proficiency, diminished the unwanted outcome. Endurance was essential, and timing was everything. One false move and the tide would be turned. Every hit surged with brutal maliciousness. From bone breaking, skin peeling, and blood running, his beatings put his prey in their place. One after another, Black Mask's gang fell slaves to gravity's harsh and unforgiving touch. Each struck the ground harder than the last. It was clear they weren't trained for such an assault. Batman held no restraint in his hostility. With fists, sore and tender, he maintained his efficiency in every bone shattering blow he delivered.

Light returned to the room. Moaning filled the air and Batman assessed the damage. Standing before the comatose he calmed his breathing. His heart beat frantically. A rush surged through his otherwise unfazed physique. Fractions of teeth lay in small pools of blood across a slick brown floor across from twenty broken bodies. Some overlapped another. Appendages were jagged and bent in different directions than the norm. Batman walked over the bodies and approached the large staircase standing before him. With each step he drew closer to removing Black Mask from Gotham's infectious underworld. His wound was still fresh and begging to take its toll. A few steps up the staircase he nearly fell to his knees. With his right hand grasping the railing and his left soaking in his wound, he rose to his feet. He tore a large section from his cape and wrapped it around his waist to secure the bleeding. The final steps were forced, almost collapsing after reaching the balcony. Groaning and coughing blood from his mouth, weakness had finally found him. His eyes fogged. Stumbling toward the door, his sweaty palm moistening his glove warmed his forehead, but gave no comfort. As blurred as his vision had become, Batman's will resurfaced. Like Falcone before him, Black Mask would suffer under The Dark Knight's unbiased wrath. Gotham was no longer his to rule. Tonight, that throne belonged to Batman.


	9. There's No Escaping Justice (part 1)

Chapter 9:

There's No Escaping Justice (part 1)

The Batman was only one man, and one man wasn't strong enough to change the world. Identities were born to be secretive. With secrets came power. Gotham's dark secret was Batman's dirty leftovers. They've said no stone goes left unturned but Gotham holds the ones who crack. Three months ago, everyone cracked. A former myth turned truth as the existence of the Batman shined in the public eye, and then Roman Sionis believed. He had the resources to uncover the Batman's identity and flaunt it across Gotham. Easy as it'd be, such a tactic would take away from the plan already in place. Here, he had a chance to defeat the Batman and discover his identity. Only then would Batman be erased from modern society. Nothing kills a man like exposure to a burning flame. Fear, money, and power in the hand of a man like Roman Sionis could cleanse the ruins of Gotham. Such recognition would change his public perception and would be labeled the "Man who killed the Batman." Commissioner Gordon and the rest of the Gotham City Police Department's sight were too black and white to make a change. Sionis was ready to give the people a real reason to change, a mission that would only have to wait a few more months. When Batman left the picture, Sionis could rule Gotham the way it was meant to be ruled, an iron hand and the weapon best suited for degradation: fear.

Sionis stood beside his desk with his secretary, a glass of untouched wine in hand. Even through his gazing at Gotham's skyline, he caught sight of her staring at him. She was a woman he viewed as attractive and neither were strangers to one another, both having shared the occasional night together. He didn't acknowledge her. Once the Batman was disposed of their night would be shared again. Such a thought was the only thing that had put a smile on his face since earning $50,000. His buyer Mr. Brigs already left through the backdoor with personal instructions from his employer. How he chose to use his item was his business and not Sionis', and he didn't question his enriched lifestyle.

Turning from his reflection in Gotham's outline, he saw his guests continue to squander his hospitality. They had managed to empty every bottle of champagne he offered, while every plate of food lay in remnants of gourmet dishes and appetizers. He flushed the glass of wine down his throat before exhaling in pleasure. "Tonight the Batman dies. And I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate."

"Of course you can't Sir." She was a woman of few words, the reason Black Mask felt she was perfect, although her stark undertone didn't go unnoticed.

"Don't get smart. That's not why I pay you." His desk contained another bottle of wine. Pouring its contents into his glass, he returned to the window and admired the coming storm. "It's going to rain tonight."

"Good thing you have your umbrella."

Sionis ran his fingers over his holstered firearm and grinned. "Yes it is."

"If I may ask Sir, don't you think the police are wise to your acts? They could show up any given moment."

"Gordon isn't that headstrong. And besides, I've got a man on the inside to prevent such a thing."

"Detective Harvey Bullock, of course. Is he a wise choice?"

"I've been keeping eyes on him and it seems he's on someone else's payroll, someone who's got more money than God. I don't like it."

The front of the room blew into a blistering inferno, sending the few nearby crashing to the ground. A dense black cloud of toxic fumes tarnished the oxygen as unbroken ringing and staggered wheezing filled the breathless air. Sionis was a strong man, but the smelling of burning wood and carpet, even flesh nauseated him. The automatic sprinkler system kicked in and sprayed the contents of the room, dwindling the flames before they could spread.

Black Mask stood, slightly tattered, wearing mists of smoke across his suit and arm over his mouth, blindly trying to see the reason for the commotion. The dying flames gave an otherwise shapeless entity a perfectly recognizable outline. "Damned fool always has to make an entrance." Wearing a smile, he turned to greet his newest guest while the others rested silently in place. "I'm surprised it took you this long." He excused himself to finish his wine. "I see you have no respect for the health of a man's house." On second glance he noted Batman's weakened physique, one hand firmly against his side, stained with drying blood. Sionis laughed. "You're more insane than the paper's suggested. You really do want to die."

The imposing figure, breathless and weary, remained motionless for the duration of the delivery but interrupted his silence once the last exchange was made. "It's over Sionis. You have a lot to answer for. And this time, no mask can save you."

"We both wear masks" he began calmly. "You have your identity, and I have mine."

"There's nothing the same between you and I Sionis. I don't kill people for money."

"From what I hear, you don't kill at all. I wonder if I can make that change tonight?"

"We'll find out."

Sionis eyed the several men around the room. "Leave us." His gaze returned to Batman. "And send all the guards home" a statement intended for his secretary, who affirmed him without speaking. She barely passing his sight as she left the room with the others. Sionis ran his jagged fingers over the rough, blistered surface of his holstered firearm, and grinned. "I hope you're happy. You ruined my party. I'm sorry, where are my manners? You're a guest, and I'll make sure you're treated with the same hospitality as the others."

Batman's posture had begun to diminish. His legs constantly shifted under his feet as he staggered in the room. His right hand, soaking in blood, rested uncomfortably over the tenderness it sheltered. "Hospitality's not bought with money." His words were semi-audible, yet focused and harshly delivered.

"You're not looking well. I see my boys didn't do such a bad job. Although, I must admit, I would have loved to fight you in your prime. I guess I'll have to settle."

Batman did all he could not to collapse in front of the man he sought to bring to justice. Never since the night of his parents' murder had he felt so weak. The deafening gunshot, the sight of his parents, freshly murdered, the feelings came back like a cancer that refused to be cured. He owed them just as he owed the people of Gotham. Hope would return to its dismal streets and the night could once again be a symbol of injustice, without cause for seamless tragedy. As with Carmine Falcone, Roman Sionis would face Gotham's integrity.

"You're a powerful man Sionis. What would your business rivals think once you're no longer in power?" Batman's delivery was more apparent, yet still lacking authority.

"Persistence may have assisted your empowerment over The Roman, but I assure you that trick won't work on me. To Falcone, you were nothing more than a mere superstition, a myth, but to me, you're bad for business. I knew you'd arrive with your misguided black and white intentions But you surprise me Batman. I had no idea how foolish you really were."

"Falcone wasn't prepared. You should've learned from his mistake."

Sionis freed his gun and with an outstretched arm made his first move. "I intend to. Your death will represent my first step in new light."

Once the barrage of bullets began, Batman took refuge behind a regal sofa that stood a few yards beside him. Each second spawned a new bullet and with each fresh round the surrounding walls fell to ruins. The front of Batman's shelter provided minimal resistance from the consistent barrage of ammunition and forced him to retreat to another place of safety. Batman curled his body to dodge the bullets and landed behind Black Mask, who swiftly turned and counted the attack. Batman dodged and seized Sionis' arms, his eyes condemning him as he pulled Sionis in. "Enough games Sionis. Talk."


	10. There's No Escaping Justice (part 2)

Chapter 9:

There's No Escaping Justice (part 2)

"All words and no game. Funny, even in a weakened state you have to pretend to be intimidating. I'm not one of those Arkham loners you're used to Batman. I don't give in easily." Black Mask removed the pistol strapped on his left side, a move that immediately caught Batman's attention. Both fought for control of the firearm, neither successfully overpowering the other. During the skirmish, a bullet flew from the barrel and struck the ceiling. Debris crashed around them and nearly blinded Batman's sight. He coughed under the dust, an action Black Mask exploited. With a solid blow to the stomach, Batman flew across the room and shattered a table upon landing. His wound, ripening with tenderness, swelled vastly and fought for his attention. As immediate a threat it was, his enduring resolve kept him focused on Black Mask's coming assault. He fought his maturing pain and executed a backflip from the remnants of the table, barely avoiding collision. His feet brushed the wall and he used the backward momentum to recoil from it, landing behind Sionis, who crashed in the table's ruins. In an instant motion, a potent blow guided Sionis to the ground. Grabbing a piece of fractured wood laying beneath him, Sionis threw the debris at Batman, who broke its impact with the motion of his arm. A table leg now in hand, he swung the wood at Batman's stomach. Batman dodged the juvenile rush and returned the assault, initiating a barrage of well timed and consistently damaging punches; he ended his assault with a focused kick that struck the abdomen. Sionis landed in the corner of the room.

"I'm only going to ask you this once," Batman began, breathless and tender "where's the briefcase?" His waning tone was difficult to coat under the severity of his demand.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss business investments with freaks"

"We're both freaks" he gasped. "Sometimes it's only madness that makes us what we are."

"In a mad world, only the mad are sane."

Batman's black palm gripped his face. Sionis couldn't see through small gaps the fingers left in between one another, he could hardly manage a breath at all. The five forceful fingers pressed inward on his cheeks, giving Batman more leverage and strength to lift his prey higher off the ground. He slammed Sionis against the brick wall and adjusted his grip. "Enough games Sionis!" His voice was edgy, but not enough to make Sionis nervous. "I know you're planning something and you're going to tell me what you know." Batman threw Sionis against the wall to his left, sending a picture that was hanging there down with him. "What's in the briefcase?"

"You think this will get me to talk? Clearly you've never dealt with a professional before."

Batman knew his interrogation was almost over, if Sionis hadn't spilled his guts by now, he probably wouldn't. A man of his standing was immune to the demands of anyone but himself. It might work on small time thugs or Gotham's punks but not professional drug dealers or crime lords. Fear was already a tool they had in their pockets and not one that was easily squandered. A new tool had to be in place, one that would guarantee his prey being set over the edge. Batman fought many criminals in hopes it would stop injustice that preyed on the fear of the innocent. As he fed on the confidence in the eyes of the corporate, crime polluter of Gotham's streets, he felt a different outlook on the situation. Batman ruthlessly pinned Black Mask between him and the plastered barrier, manifesting his fierceness in his narrowing eyes and grinning lips. "You're a pawn, like Falcone. Gotham's bigger, more corrupt, and far less dangerous than me. I can do things you can't even dream of doing, why? Because, unlike you, I have nothing to lose. Sure, you'll get a little jail time and roam free after but when you get out, I'll be waiting. And next time, you'd wish I'd gone easier on you."

"You give yourself too much credit Batman. Gotham will always be corrupt, no matter who's in charge. Even after you're gone, no one will wash its sin away. Unlike that rat Falcone, I can keep this city going."

"You're garbage; you deserve to rot in a cell with the rest of your 'friends.'"

"If you really want to know the contents of that briefcase all you have to do is take a closer look at the masses and those who fill these rotten structures. They hold the answer. Fear will never escape their hearts. Gotham is the only fear they need. I'd just like to give a little back." His arms broke free and grabbed his interrogator's shoulders. Gripping tightly, he pulled him in and struck his forehead against his. Batman staggered backward. Kneeling on the ground, he removed an electronic batarang from his belt and held it out defensively, aggressively anticipating Black Mask's imminent assault. A solid red light rested on a button in the center of the device. Clenching his side, he pressed the button, causing the light to flash repeatedly. As Black Mask neared, Batman threw the electric batarang. It struck the ground in front of Black Mask's foot, as intended, and on impact released an electric shock of 120 volts through his body. The tremor lasted a few seconds and ended in a mild explosion that sent Sionis a few feet back toward a large, looming window. Muscles aching, skin burning, Sionis fought against his body's failing restraint and rested along the glass. Leaning over, he gagged from his injury, spewing blood and stomach acid on the floor. Some of the liquid ruined his designer shoes. Batman gradually approached him, leaving little time for recovery.

"Give it up," Batman said "It's over."

The healthy suggestion was harshly ignored. In response, Sionis threw an angered fist. Catching the approaching fist in his left hand, Batman drove his harsh knuckles against the bottom edge of Black Mask's elbow, crushing the area's surrounding cartilage and bone. Through his opponent's call of agony, he sheltered his right fist under his left and struck his elbow along Black Mask's rigid jawline. The near-crippling act forced him on the ground, his back parallel to the ceiling. Batman's heavy boot pressed firmly against Black Mask's skull. The pressure was applied with just enough force to disable a retaliation as well as to sever any connection with free will.

"I'm almost out of mercy. The briefcase! Talk!"Sionis didn't respond so additional force was necessary in obtaining the information Batman desired. The skull cracked under his foot, spawning call of agony and forced a grin along Batman's face. "I can think of many more ways to hurt you. I'm sure this is as bad as you want it to get."

"Months of careful planning cannot be undone. It's in motion, the stage is set. All that's left now is for the puppets of Gotham to breathe in their new meal. I can assure you, desert will be worth the feast." Displeasure fueled his words and were broken up throughout the delivery.

"You're going to poison Gotham. How?"

"You're the Detective, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Grabbing Sionis by the neck, Batman shoved him against the wall left of the window, his left check overwhelmed between the motionless, firm authority of the barrier and Batman's demanding palm. Before Batman could finish, a squad of seven police officers, led by Commissioner Gordon and Detective Harvey Bullock swarmed the room. They formed an arch around Batman and Sionis, each one aiming their automatic rifles. "Evening Batman" Gordon began. "It'd be wise of you to stand down. As much as I'd like to shoot you, I don't want to involve my men in a civil lawsuit for gunning down an unarmed man. But I'm sure you have some toys in that belt of yours."

Batman examined the officers and noted the seriousness of the demand but didn't say a word. He noted the absence of Ethan Bennett. They'd grown wise to his dishonestly. He knew it was only a matter of time before they discovered his outside loyalty but it happened sooner than he counted on. It was a loss, but it wouldn't stop him from bringing Sionis to justice. He'd come too far to surrender to the demands of Gordon and the GCPD. His assertive embrace over Sionis remained firmly in place through the severity of Gordon's ultimatum. Silently he pulled three round pellets from his belt and cupped them in hand.

"My finger's getting itchy. Stand down or we'll be forced to open fire." He watched Batman throw Sionis to the ground without a second's hesitation. "Now step away and put your hands above you head."

Ignoring the suggestion, Batman hurled the pellets in Gordon's direction and sheltered himself under his cape for protection from the coming storm. The pellets burst and submerged the room in a dense cloud of black smoke. The officers coughed under the thickness and obeyed Gordon's order to open fire. Through the blindness, the automatic sprinkler system sprang to life and began clearing the shrouded room. Glass shattered, creating an opening to further diminish the cloaked atmosphere. When the smoke had cleared and bullets ceased, Gordon's officers stood in silence. There was no sight of the Batman, just shattered pieces of glass lying next to a broken window. Bullock stood beside Gordon, trying to act surprised. Gordon ran over to the window and caught sight of Batman running in the distance. He opened fire but he was already too far out of range. "Christ we had him." He sighed. "We don't need this kind of publicity."

Gordon sighed. He'd only seen the Batman a handful of times, and each of those times he slipped through his fingers like a glass in a sweaty hand. If he kept making slip ups like this he'd be on a worse list than Falcone and Sionis. He was better than this. He'd only been Commissioner for a few months now and he needed to distinguish himself by proving that he was on a higher level than Commissioner Loeb. The public opinion of him was passable but he had better standards. He liked to challenge himself as much as possible by striving to fulfill the wish of the people he protects. Most Gothamites passed Batman off as a modern legend, no one took his name seriously. Even some of the criminals laughed at the mere mention of it. It was only a matter of time before it got out of hand and became too big to contain. It didn't matter that one of Gotham's most dangerous crime lords was behind bars and another had been apprehended, the Batman was still breaking the law. A small part of him wanted to believe in what the Batman was doing but as a man who put himself in place of the law, he couldn't afford to. The Batman wasn't on the police payroll, least not that he knew of, even though Ethan Bennett had been working with him behind his back, he wasn't being paid or bribed. Still, the sooner he was off the streets the better. Only then could Gotham be safe. One madman was enough, any more and Gotham would be overcrowded, and that would require a force much bigger than himself to cure.

Gotham's skyline overwhelmed him, captivating him with its numerous lights, and screams. He couldn't tame them all. Though it wasn't a crime to try, it was a crime to fail. He left the ominous horizon in the distance and spoke to Harvey Bullock directly. "The Batman's wise to our efforts. We're going to have to lie low for now."

"What do ya mean 'lie low?'" Bullock's tone was as demanding as the task that lay ahead. As offensive as it was, Gordon wisely didn't question it.

"Keeping quiet is the only way to catch him now." He didn't believe the words that left his mouth yet he had no choice but to say them. If the true definition of insanity is trying things multiple times expecting different results, than he didn't want to be associated with the word.

"Bullshit. Any nutcase that dresses up like a bat sooner or later is gonna snap. What are we gonna do, let him roam free?"

"I'm not saying that. Clearly, our methods are ineffective. We've got to try a different approach. We'll keep tabs on his him, and watch his routines. Once we've kept our distance and he's unsuspecting, then we'll take him down."

"He'd be ready for that. It's still my case, your Honor, let me handle it."

"That's not your call Detective. I've got a job to do, and I don't want you barking up the wrong tree. Either you can tag along and play by the rules or you can find another job to support your dirty habits. For now, I need you to follow orders." His eyes drifted toward the newly apprehended crime lord. He stood in between two officers, cuffed with his hands behind his back, and wearing an undying smile. "Now, get him out of my sight. We're done here."

Following the order, Bullock addressed Sionis. "Come on scum, I've been waiting to do this all day." His remark provoked a whispered response from his prisoner.

"Care to share your little secret with your employer Detective? I'm sure he would like to know all about your poker face."

"Keep moving you pathetic piece of trash. Don't speak unless spoken to, capiche?" Bullock pushed his back and forced him forward until they walked in unison.

"You're something else Bullock. I don't know many people capable of wearing more than two masks, outside of my own experiences. I must say, I don't like it."

"I don't think you heard me. I said can it!" The two officers followed them out the doorway, with Gordon tailing closely behind.

They passed through the large ballroom where they entered, disturbing the men lying on the ground, still remaining unconscious from their earlier bruises sustained while fighting the Batman. Once outside, the air greeted them. The fresh wind brushing against their skin comforted them, all but Roman Sionis.

Gordon approach a nearby officer who stood beside a running police car and spoke. "There are injured men inside. I need a squad in there to treat them. When they're done, ship them off to the station."

"Copy that Sir."

Gordon returned toward Bullock's side and watched him as he placed Sionis in the back of the police cruiser. "Another Crime Lord off the streets. We're making progress, but it's not going to be easy."

"With Falcone, and now Sionis behind bars, the streets should be a little safer. And without their leaders, these gangs should fall apart."

"Or find another host to feed their impulses. We should count on anything."

"Yeah, even traitors."

"Bennett's not getting off easy. Aiding a wanted vigilante in his office and withholding information is worth more than a slap on the wrist."

"What are you going to do to him?"

"What anyone would. Least I don't have to question _your _loyalty."

"I'm aces chief" Bullock smiled.


	11. Dark Victory

Chapter 10:

Dark Victory

The air was stale, it's dust contaminating the tables that occupied the lifeless room holding Detective Ethan Bennett. He sat anxiously, and un-detained, in the grey folding chair a few inches from the edge of the table. A sole, chained light hung unprotected above him, giving the only heat in the otherwise damp, unconditioned room. A one-way mirror faced him, sheltering a camera and other officers who stood beyond the cement walls. The room hadn't been swept in weeks. Grime was forming on the walls. If the idea was to get a prisoner as uncomfortable as possible, it worked.

As Bennett gazed around the room reality set it. He wasn't a criminal by any means but given his current environment he felt like one. A few more isolated minutes passed before anything happened. Commissioner Gordon was trying to play up the suspense and dread for a successful interrogation. Bennett knew all the rules. He'd been there before, always on the other end of the questions. On a few occasions he sat quietly behind the mirror and monitored the captive. It was one of the few pleasures he enjoyed of his job outside of chasing criminals.

The door to his left opened. Commissioner Gordon and Detectives Harvey Bullock and Jan Ferguson entered, walking on each side of him. Gordon sat down across from Bennett while Bullock and Ferguson remained upright. A tan folder lay firm in his hand, with a stack of papers sandwiched in between. Gordon dropped the folder on the table, projecting dust which filled the beam of light between him and Bennett. Without speaking, or making eye contact, Gordon flipped through the papers until he found the ones he desired. A smaller stack formed beside the original, all filed _"Detective Bennett, Ethan." _Gordon gave Bullock the orignal stack and held the leftovers in front of him at a 30 degree angle with the table. After seconds of examining the paperwork, Gordon spoke.

"According to Detective Bullock, you've been seeing the Batman on a regualr basis since he first appeared in Gotham. Is that true Detective?"

"Sir, if you let me explain."

"Answer the question."

"It's true."

Gordon let out a sigh and resumed. "I thought I could trust you."

"I did what I felt I had to."

"Bennett, we are the law. We don't answer to outlaws who think they're above it."

"Falcone and Sionis are off the streets. That proves something. Why's it matter?"

"It matters Detective." Gordon looked over his reports again. "How long have you been feeding him disclosed information?"

Bennett fell silent. His saliva drying in his mouth. "The past year."

"When I took over as Commissioner I also interited Loeb's outlook on crime, criminal and vigilante alike. For someone in my office to undermine my authority and committ acts against the law, it calls for a re-evaluation. Not only have you assisted this madmanm you've also withheld important information from an ongoing investigation, an investigation that could have locked up more than two of Gotham's crime lords by now. It's a pretty heavy offense Detective, not one to be taken lightly."

"I don't regret my actions. The Batman's not a threat. He fights for what we fight for. He just doesn't wear a badge."

"What was in it for you?" Ferguson asked. "Why not do the job you were hired for?"

"It was my job" Bennett affirmed. "I wanted Falcone and Sionis off the streets like everyone else. The Batman could get it done."

"Why'd ya do it, huh?" Bullock asked. Bullock's obesity offended Bennett like an ocean polluted with toxic chemicals. The very stench of his cigar infested breath made it all the more difficult to take him seriously. His arrogant attitude, cocky one-liners, and his refusal to act his age made him distant. For reasons unknown, Gordon trusted him. Bullock was playing an angle and if it were exposed it would be his ass, not Bennett's.

"My actions speak for themselves."

"Do they now? All I see is a two-timin' phony chamoflaged in police clothing."

"Look in the mirror."

Bullock got in his face. "We'll catch this batfreak. When we do, maybe you two can share the same cell."

"Enough Detective" Gordon ordered.

Bullock and Bennett exchanged annoyed looks with one another before Gordon continued.

"Has the Batman ever told you where he operates, his motives, his targets, anything?"

"No, and I didn't ask. It wasn't a personal relationship."

Bullock added, "Sounds like he didn't trust you like you trusted him."

"Why would he?" Ferguson mentioned. "Why shoot himself in the foot?"

"Who's side are you on Lieutenant?" Gordon asked.

"I'm just saying Sir, I don't think the Batman is as nieve as we believe."

Gordon returned his attention to Bennett. "So there's nothing we can use on the Batman? Nothing he said or did that made you question your loyalty?"

"No."

"When does he strike?"

"He comes to me."

"You never once went to him?"

"When he needed information I have it to him, that's all I supplied."

Gordon took a second for the words to set in and to gather his thoughts. He looked down at the papers, and then back at Bennett. "I'm suspending you Detective, pending a further investigation. Gather your belongings from your office and leave my building." Bennett acknowledged without speaking and obeyed his final order. After Bennett left the room Gordon rose from his seat and left for the door, pausing once he touched the knob to look back at Ferguson and Bullock. "Send Miggs and Matthews after Bennett. Tell them to follow him to his apartment. I'd be the Batman shows up. Study him, don't charge him. I don't want any surprises got me?"

"I'm on it" Ferguson answered, walking toward the door. She moved passed Gordon and into the open hallway. She left his side, followed by Bullock, but Gordon's voice stopped her.

"And Jan?"

She turned, "Yes James."

"When you get back from vacation, you're going to have to pick up a few more hours. Harvey's being promoted after we finish with Bennett's investigation. Now that I know I can trust him... I don't want to make the same mistake I did with Ethan."

"You did the right thing. Ethan's loyalties were his own. I always had a feeling he was up to something."

"You and Harvey are on the case now. I want everything we know about the Batman on my desk before you leave."

"Yes Sir."

"If we can't capture him, we'll take off his mask."

* * *

Cold and judgmental stares greeted Ethan Bennett as he approached the door to his office as if he were a fugitive charged with the most disgusting crime someone could commit. He ignored the unpleasant reception and continued forward like an outcast. His partnership with the Batman questioned his loyalty to Gordon in a weird way he didn't view as betrayal. Even with his payroll on the GCPD, he felt he was doing a better public service under the radar. The corrupt outweighed the decent who strived to cleanse the streets with the old ways of peace and harmony. Gotham wasn't sheltered in the past in terms of equality. Justice had no place in the modern world. It's been molded into a darker, more ominous entity, one the Batman brought from the depths to restore a once peaceful world. In changing times, it became more important for harmony, no matter how some chose to keep up. Batman represented the push Gotham deserved to retain its independence from crime. Bennett took that vow when he came to Gotham, one he promised to himself and to the citizens. Even without the GCPD, he would not break it.

Bennett entered his office and was greeted by the personal belongings he collected over the years. Awards hung on the walls, with pictures being restricted to his desk. He pulled them down one by one and reflected with smiles on how each one was earned, but soon disappeared. For years his office doubled as a second home. On more than a few occasions he'd spent all night working there. A desperate expression overcame him as he tried to hold on to his last moments. Solace didn't find him.

The cool autumn breeze chilled the room, conflicting with the stations heated interior. Bennett turned toward the window and saw Batman knelt on the railing. "Every cop in the city is looking for you. They know I'm working with you, yet you still show up? Lucky for you we're three stories up." Batman entered the room without a word. "Did I ever tell you how much I envy that?" Again, Batman was silent. Instead he examined the walls and empty boxes. "Another crime Lord off the streets. Sionis shouldn't stir much of a mess now. Gotham's future never looked so bright. Good job."

"It's too early for celebration. This is far from over."

Bennett nodded and looked down at the medal he got for initiation placed on his desk. He gave a semi-silent sigh. "My career's over. Least I can say what I've fought for wasn't in vain. Two of the cities biggest crime Lords are locked up in County, thanks to you." He set the medal in the box and stared at all the accomplishments he achieved, knowing they were now being swept away. "Gordon's still got it out for you. He's not going to rest until he finds out who you are and sees you locked up with Gotham's trash."

"Gordon's opinion isn't my concern. Whether or not he warms up to me doesn't matter. I can't let that get in my way."

"Without Gordon's aide you're not going to get very far."

Batman pulled a small, hand-held device from his belt and gave it to Bennett.

"What's this?" he asked, hesitantly accepting the gesture.

"A communicator."

"I'm afraid I'm not going to be much help to you anymore."

"Like you said, I stand a better chance when I'm not on my own."

"I didn't say that specifically. I've heard how you fight. I'm sure you can take care of yourself."

"Take the communicator and keep in touch."

Bennett sunk the device in his pocket. When he looked back toward the window Batman had vanished. All that was left was the cool, gentle breeze of the night.


End file.
